


You and Me

by Radiday



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-13
Updated: 2018-05-13
Packaged: 2019-05-06 01:40:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14631402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Radiday/pseuds/Radiday
Summary: He didn't think it would be this hard, going back to Pop's.





	You and Me

He hates the wheelchair, hates the crutches, but he absolutely despises the cane.

It’s because he can leave the house with the cane. Go to the construction site, go to Pop’s, go on the walks that Archie takes him on every day.

There’s no more excuses to hide in the house. No more concern of slipping on crutches after it rains, no more lack of wheelchair access.

He still can’t drive - his right side won’t allow it. It wouldn’t matter if he could because his truck is covered in blood and neither he nor Archie have the heart to do anything about it.

When he’s well enough, he orders Pop’s for both of them and gets Alice Cooper to take him to pick it up. It’s his first time back since the shooting, and he would be lying if he said he hadn’t been avoiding it. His stomach turns as he exits Alice’s car. She’d offered to go and get it, but he had insisted. He needed to do this, to be able to think about Pop’s without feeling like he was going to vomit.

The bell on the door rings as he enters, and he has vague memories of Archie in sheer panic waiting for the Black Hood to leave.

“Fred,” he hears Pop say from behind the counter.

He limps over there, leaning heavily on the cane, trying his best not to look around, not to imagine what went wrong that day at the diner, what almost did. “Hey, Pop.” He reaches for his wallet, but Pop puts a hand out.

“It’s on the house. How’re you feeling?”

Fred sighs, mostly because he doesn’t actually know how he’s feeling. Better, physically, he thinks. It doesn’t hurt to breath anymore, but it still hurts to go up and down the stairs. Emotionally, though, he thinks he’s a wreck. He can’t sleep because of the nightmares, the ones where he doesn’t block the shot in time and Archie lays in his arms in a pool of blood.

He’s jumpier now, afraid to be alone, afraid of the dark. He panics if Archie doesn’t pick up his calls or return his texts. Not that that happens often, though, because Archie reacts the same way if he doesn’t hear from his father.

He makes it about two minutes into a conversation with Pop before he’s absolute sure he’s going to blow chunks right there on the diner floor.

He leaves quickly, because there’s no way he’s going to add vomit to the list of bodily fluids he’s lost in Pop’s.

He doesn’t respond when Alice asks if he’s okay, but just chokes out “Go,” instead. Two minutes later, he’s ordering Alice to stop, finally losing his lunch on the side of the road.

Alice comes around and rubs his back and holds out a bottle of water. He mumbles “sorry,” and gets back in, not seeing Alice send a discrete text to Archie that his dad’s had a bad day and he should take it easy.

Alice insists on staying when they get home, but he all but slams the door in her face to get her to leave. As soon as he does, he wishes he hadn’t. He wants to ask her to come back, but he’s a man of pride.

Not long after, Fred finds himself sitting at the kitchen counter trying to control his breathing according to the info sheets on anxiety the hospital gave him when he left.

“I know you say you’re fine, and you are. But just in case,” the doctor had said.

He reaches for the piece of paper across the counter and recoils in pain. He’s fucked up his side again, just like he fucked up his marriage and his son’s chance at a safe life.

He hears a floorboard creak in the next room and he just about jumps out of his chair, reaching for whatever’s within reach to protect himself. He turns around only to see that it’s Vegas, who whines as his owner’s reaction.

And that’s the last straw. He’s afraid of his own dog, for god’s sake. What is the matter with him?

He puts his head in his hands, elbows on the counter, and lets the tears fall.

He’s still crying silently when he hears the door open and he prays it’s Alice coming back, but the heavy steps and sound of a backpack hitting the floor tells him it’s not.

“Dad!” he hears.

He stiffens and tries to pull himself together, wills the tears to stop falling. 

“Dad!” he hears again.

He swipes at his eyes but he knows it won’t do any good. Archie’s always been able to read him like an open book.

“Dad?” Archie’s voice becomes gentler as he sees his father and moves closer. “Are you crying?” he asks, putting a hand on Fred’s shoulder.

“I’m fine,” Fred tries, but it comes out wet and weak.

“Dad, what happened? Are you hurt?”

Fred shakes his head and suddenly he can’t stop so Archie pulls him into a hug in one swift motion.

It reminds Fred of the hugs he’d give Archie when he’d fall of his bike and skin his knee. It’s been a long time since they’ve hugged like this, and there’s something about feeling Archie pressed against him that makes him completely lose it.

Before he can stop himself, he’s sobbing, clinging onto his son for dear life. He leans too far to the right and his leg gives, but Archie stands strong for both of them.

Archie’s at a loss, and he’s also scared, because he’s never, ever seen his dad cry before. “It’s okay, Dad. We’re okay,” he tries, but it seems futile.

Fred settles after a few minutes and whispers into Archie’s shoulder, “It could’ve been you,” and Archie feels his stomach drop and his heart shatter all at once. Fred untangles himself from the hug and clasps both hands around Archie’s face. “It could’ve been you,” he repeats.

Archie looks him dead in the eye, trying his best to get Fred to understand the words he says next. “It wasn’t.”

Fred shakes his head again, sinking back onto the stool. “But it almost was. I- I don’t know what I would’ve done if it was you, Archie. I- If I had lost you.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Dad.” Archie was pretty sure he was doing this wrong. His dad had always been the one to comfort, ready with kind words and wisdom in his back pocket.

“I went to Pop’s today,” Fred says suddenly. He’s staring at his hands now, so Archie moves around the island so that he’s looking at his dad across the counter.

“Mrs. Cooper texted me,” Archie supplies.

“Did she tell you that I puked?”

Archie opens his mouth to answer, _No_ , _she_ _left_ _that_ _part_ _out_ , but Fred keeps going. “I- I just got in there and I couldn’t breathe. I- I didn’t- ” his voice catches.

“It’s okay, Dad,” Archie whispers as he rubs small circles on his father’s back. “You don’t have to go back in there ever again if you don’t want to.”

“Arch,” Fred starts. ‘ _That’s_ _not_ _possible_ ,’ goes unsaid.

Archie catches on. “At least not until you’re ready. We’ll go together next time, okay? Just take it easy. Deep breaths.”

Fred does as instructed, but he can’t stop the remorse that sets in. “I’m sorry, Arch.”

"Sorry for what? Being scared to go back to the place where some crazy guy shot you? Dad, there’s nothing to be sorry for. But you can’t just deal with this alone. We have to help each other. Isn’t that what you always say? That it’s you and me together.”

“Yeah,” he whispers. “Yeah, it is.”

“Then that’s what we’re going to do. We’ll get through this together.” Archie continues to rub his dad’s back, looking briefly at the greasy bags that lay untouched on the kitchen counter.

“Hey dad, I think that food’s been sitting out too long,” he says, his tone playful. “How about we order a pizza instead?”

Fred laughs through the lingering tears. “I think that’s a great idea, son.”


End file.
